


oh but she burns

by lifeorbeth



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Experimentation, F/F, Needles, Other experimental and invasive things performed without express consent, syringes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 00:33:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3431399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifeorbeth/pseuds/lifeorbeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beth is Sarah's monitor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	oh but she burns

Beth's running watch beeps softly in the dark - not like she was sleeping anyway. She rolls out of bed, watching Sarah's stillness, the slack in Sarah's jaw. She drags her fingers lightly around Sarah's hairline, tucking some of that wild hair behind her ear. Beth places a soft kiss and a whispered apology behind Sarah's ear. A place only Beth will know.

She throws on her running clothes, taking her time pulling on the loose-fitting shorts, lacing up the shoes. She does this to ignore the sour taste in her mouth. She pulls her hair back and drinks water from the bathroom tap, but the taste won't fade. She pulls out her mouthwash and swirls it around for a while. She still has ten minutes.

The balls of her feet burn. Her body knows what being up at this time means. It means running. Running until her lungs bleed, running until her legs give out, running until she can't tell if the saltwater on her cheeks is from sweat or tears. It's running until she can't feel the guilt in her stomach anymore. Running until a pair of legs is all she is. In the dark of night with nothing but the sound of her own ragged breathing to keep her company. But she has to wait ten minutes first.

She paces in meandering circles around the living room, winding figure-eights around the dining room and coffee tables. Her footfalls are quiet and steady in these shoes; they propel her forward, making it nearly impossible to stop moving once she's started. Five minutes left, and she moves back to the bedroom, leaning out over Sarah's sleeping form. She wishes she could just wake Sarah, that they could go. That she could be honest. But instead she glides her finger down the center of Sarah's forehead to the tip of her nose and back - like Sarah does with Kira. And she plants another kiss on her girlfriend's forehead.

Then she places two fingers on the side of Sarah's neck, checking her pulse alongside the ticking of her watch. She plugs the numbers into a secure database accessed via her phone, and turns away at the lurching in her gut. She waits for a text message. A confirmation.

Instead, she gets a light knock on the door.

She moves, itching to pull out her gun. Itching to cave into Sarah's instincts: fight or flight. Instead, she opens the door without a word and steps aside. Four scientists enter, nodding at her, toting large, nondescript black bags. Beth closes her eyes. She should leave. Right now. She doesn't have to be here. But she does.

"What time was the sedative administered?" one of the scientists asks as the group unloads their equipment.

"9:04."

They told her very early on that specificity is the most important thing. She has learned to make note of the time whenever she slips the powder into Sarah's nightly beer. She keeps the numbers in her mind like chinks in her armor, keeping them close where she can feel the sting of where they rub at her. And they remind her that she isn't heartless, she isn't empty. She can't be if she feels like this.

"What time did the subject fall asleep?"

The subject.

"Around--"

"Around?" One of the scientists, now wearing gloves and a mask, glances at her over his shoulder, poised with a syringe in hand.

"12:27," Beth breathes, glancing down at the floor, but not soon enough to miss the approving nod as the lead scientist sets aside the additional sedative. The weight of that gesture settles deep inside of her with a resounding boom. And she tightens her core to keep from swaying, from falling.

The scientists step in front of her, blocking her view. They mutter to each other as one takes blood and another starts taping electrodes to the sides of Sarah's head and the third and fourth prep syringes on the nightstand.

Beth props herself against the wall and closes her eyes, trying not to slip down to the floor. The muscles in her thighs flex and relax to keep her from toppling over. Luckily it's second nature by now. The minutes drag by and Beth can feel her exhaustion like a physical presence prowling around inside of her, like a beast in the dark. But she can't sleep. Not when they might hurt Sarah.

Their words, previously hushed and flat, escalate; Beth steps forward again, jumping particularly at the "she's coming out of it." She tries to peer around them, but the scientists are flashes of limbs and movement that keep getting in the way. She catches sight of Sarah tossing her head in her sleep; presumably Sarah's hands are reaching out. Beth catches sight of Sarah's eyelids fluttering, and she shoves her way to the bed.

As the scientists scramble to pack their equipment, Beth straddles her girlfriend and tangles her fingers in Sarah's hair and throws herself into a kiss she hopes beyond hope can be distracting enough - for both of them. Maybe Beth can pretend that she isn't hiding her lies, her secrets, all the things she wishes weren't necessary. Maybe, but probably not. Sarah's heavy hands can't quite reach Beth's shoulders where they might normally take hold, so instead they curl loosely around Beth's forearms.

And Beth wishes the pounding of her heart in her stomach was from arousal. Instead, it's from fear.

The scientists slip from the room, and Beth rolls off of Sarah, staring up at the ceiling for a long moment. When she finally glances over, Sarah's eyes are closed and her chest is rising and falling steadily. It's then that Beth also notices the abandoned syringe on the floor labeled with the very familiar name of the sedative. Beth buries her face in a pillow wishing that the tears would just come already. But they don't.

And so she slips out of bed yet again, and she ventures out into the night. As soon as the door is closed behind her, she's running.


End file.
